Vale of the Gods

by A. E. Rayne

  Entorp stayed standing, his eyes on the sinking sun. ‘My wife told me stories about The Following. Their quest for that book drove many mad. Their desire to claim it was greater than anything. They believed it was the key to Raemus’ return. That the book could bring him back, and he would, in turn, set them free.’

  ‘But they didn’t anticipate Draguta’s reluctance to part with her power,’ Edela said. ‘Did they?’

  ‘No, but perhaps the book controls her now?’ Entorp wondered with a frown. ‘Perhaps she has no choice?’

  ‘And without it?’ Biddy asked. ‘Do you think she would just be a dreamer?’

  ‘She was once, from what I saw in my dreams,’ Edela murmured. ‘She was a dreamer like her sisters. But when she was given the book, I don’t imagine there was any way back. It appears to have consumed her.’

  ‘Which makes her even more dangerous,’ Entorp decided. ‘She must be at the mercy of the book now. As though they are one. Bound by evil to destroy everyone they perceive as an enemy.’

  ‘Which is every one of us,’ Biddy said. ‘Isn’t it?’

  Edela nodded. ‘It is, I’m afraid. We can only hope that Jael kills her before it’s too late. Before she destroys us all.’

  Draguta had quickly returned her attention to preparing for their departure to the vale, and that gave Meena a chance to slip away to see Amma.

  ‘What happened?’ Amma was bored and curious, eager to escape the traumatic memories of what Jaeger had done to her. ‘I saw you all leaving. Where did you go? What did you do?’

  Meena felt embarrassed to say, but, in the end, lying to Amma didn’t feel right. ‘We went to the Crown of Stones. It is a magical place where the Followers make spells and rituals. Draguta too.’

  ‘Oh.’ Amma lay back on the pillows. She was tired of being imprisoned in Draguta’s suffocating chamber. Though she felt safe, locked away from Jaeger, she was starting to panic, knowing that soon they were all leaving to try and kill Axl and Jael. She was worried that they would succeed and she would be stuck in Hest forever. ‘What did you do there?’

  ‘We... Draguta... I...’ Meena felt like vomiting, the bitter taste of the smoke still strong in her mouth. ‘She bound a goddess. Then she made a fog. She... cursed it.’ It was all such a blur. Meena still wasn’t quite sure what Draguta had done.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It made the Brekkans see things that weren’t there. They killed each other.’

  Amma threw her hands over her mouth. ‘No!’

  Meena’s cheeks reddened, ashamed that she had been there, helping to swirl the deceptive fog around Jael Furyck and her men.

  On the wrong side once again.

  ‘I saw Axl,’ Meena whispered, eyes on the door. ‘He was alive.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  Meena nodded.

  ‘We have to do something.’ Amma’s voice was lower than Meena’s, her eyes on the door too. ‘We have to do something to stop her before it’s too late.’

  Meena shuddered, knowing that Amma was right. But now they were leaving, and Draguta had hidden the ring thanks to Evaine.

  She needed to find it and destroy it.

  But how?

  Those two words crashed around her head, not finding any answers.

  But how?

  Jael dropped her head, remembering her fights with Torstan. She had beaten him every time, though he’d kept turning up to face her with a wobbly grin, trying to look confident. She smiled sadly, patting Thorgils on the shoulder. ‘There’ll be time when we’re done with all of this. Time to talk about him. About those we’ve lost, those we’ll lose along the way. But now isn’t it. We have to hurry. We need to get away from this place before nightfall.’

  Thorgils stood beside her, Beorn next to him, his eyes on the pile of bodies they had made. And it was a pile. At least one hundred men, and Marissa, the girl Jael had fought in Vallsborg; her throat slit, an arm missing, her eyes closed.

  Thorgils wanted to reach out and touch Torstan’s bloody hand. His most annoying of friends had always been one of his best. The guilt of his death would be a heavy weight to carry for the rest of his life. He thought about what Eadmund had done to him, leaving him for dead in Hallow Wood as he had. He would never let him feel guilty for it. It wasn’t his fault – Thorgils felt that more strongly than ever – it wasn’t Eadmund’s fault.

  Though, he would never absolve himself.

  He couldn’t.

  Rubbing his eyes, angry and sad, he turned to Jael. ‘We should leave.’

  She nodded, looking for Axl and Raymon who had been gathering their men into some semblance of order. ‘It’s not far to go to get away from these open fields. Somewhere we can regroup. Talk about what we can do.’

  ‘What can we do?’ Karsten wondered, arriving with a frowning Fyn who could barely open his eyes against the pain in his head. ‘What?’

  ‘Keep going, and hope that those left standing will be enough. Fight to live. Expect to die. Believe that together we’ll not be stopped in the end. Know that somehow, those left will make it all worth it. That’s all we can do.’

  Karsten nodded. It was what he needed to hear. And turning to Fyn, he clapped him on the back, noticing the enormous lump in the middle of his head. ‘And try not to ride anywhere near Rork. Not unless you want to be knocked out by that block of stone!’

  As night fell, the tailor arrived with a chest full of white silk dresses for Draguta to take on their journey, and she felt an immediate rush of excitement. Preparations for their departure were complete. The Hestian army had not expended much effort in Angard, with little loss of men or weapons during the attack. In fact, they had gained more weapons and ships. Gold and dreamers too.

  There was little to organise in theory.

  Their men were drilled, equipped, prepared. Eadmund and Jaeger had discussed their plans. Briggit and the dreamers were ready. Bound. Hers.

  Just like Eadmund and Jaeger were hers.

  Ballack and Meena had retrieved everything from the catacombs.

  And now she had her dresses.

  But, Draguta realised, walking into the baths, her eyes on the steam floating above the hot water, there were some problems she still needed to attend to. ‘I’m not surprised Eadmund doesn’t want a wretch like you, Evaine Gallas.’

  Evaine looked up in confusion, seeing three white figures moving before her. It was dark. Flames dancing in sconces highlighted only snatches of colour and Evaine was too drunk to tell what was going on.

  ‘Were you planning to drown yourself? Or slash your wrists and then drown yourself?’ Draguta wondered coldly, stalking around the edge of the pool, her eyes on the knife Evaine was trying to conceal behind her. She was naked, submerged in the water, her face red, eyes bloodshot and swollen. ‘I despise weakness,’ Draguta hissed, crouching down, ice-blue eyes sharp and unsympathetic. ‘And this is perhaps the weakest display I have ever witnessed. Certainly the most pathetic!’ She stood, irritated, as Evaine hunched over, eyes hidden beneath her wet hair. ‘Were you hoping Eadmund would suddenly realise his love for you while you were burning on your pyre? That you would finally get what you wanted by being dead?’ She laughed, walking to a bench, where she brushed off a small bug and sat down.

  Evaine didn’t know what to say, and she realised that she was too drunk to even form words.

  ‘Did you know that your ancestors can be traced back to the very first Followers? A coven of desperate sycophants, the lot of you! But ultimately, powerful dreamers. So many dreamers of great skill and reputation. And you and your idiot cousin are the last of them now. She is the most pointless dreamer I have ever met and you... well, what use were you ever going to be, except as a decoy?’

  Evaine was too curious to be embarrassed as she lifted her head. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You didn’t know?’ Draguta laughed. ‘Oh, you, Evaine Gallas, were bred to be a pot of honey for Eadmund to dip his finger into. To be so distracted by your beauty that he
would stay far away from Jael Furyck, the woman he was destined to be with.’ Draguta watched as Evaine started blinking rapidly. ‘Your demented mother cursed both you and Eadmund, and now, here you are, ready to end it all. Life without him holds no meaning to you because being with Eadmund was all you were born to do.’

  Evaine wasn’t sure she understood Draguta at all. ‘But I want to love Eadmund. I do love him.’

  Draguta shook her head, standing. ‘Then why are you trying to kill yourself, you idiot girl?’ She picked up Evaine’s dress from the bench and threw it at her. ‘I gave you a chance, and despite humiliating yourself before me, that chance is still there. Prove yourself worthy of my help, and I will show you how to bind Eadmund again.’

  ‘Prove?’ Evaine pulled herself out of the water, reaching for her dress. ‘How?’

  The silence was heavy and somber as the army arrived at their campsite that night. And though they knew they should try to shake themselves out of it and look ahead, they stumbled around, setting fires, pitching tents, tending to horses. Silent. Numb. Struggling to raise their heads.

  Ayla left a morose Bruno in the wagon and came to find Jael, who, having sorted out her tent, was making sure that Tig was secure for the night. She wanted him close. They had brought the horses into their campsite, knowing there was a possibility that they would have to leave in a hurry; worried that Draguta would try to hurt them.

  They had to keep them safe.

  ‘We’re not safe,’ Ayla sighed.

  ‘No, we aren’t,’ Jael agreed. ‘We’ve not been safe since Draguta returned. And we won’t be till she’s gone.’

  ‘But we can try to make ourselves safe tonight,’ Ayla insisted. ‘You and I. We’re the only two here who have a chance of keeping everyone alive. Tonight, tomorrow, the day after that. You, me, and your raven.’

  Jael nodded. ‘We need to make those circles Edela mentioned. A dreamer circle with that symbol. If you can show me, I’ll make one too.’

  ‘Yes, that’s why I’ve come. We’ll make one each. I only wish we could make one around all of us, but that would take all night. It would be impossible to keep it intact with so many men. Drunk men too. I imagine there’ll be some drinking after what happened today.’

  ‘I imagine so.’

  ‘We can make them here,’ Ayla said, glancing around in the nearly-dark, pleased that the ground was reasonably flat and amenable to circle making. ‘You can invite whomever you want inside. But you will need to close it and guard it. I’ll show you how.’

  Jael followed Ayla, her empty stomach rumbling, but with the smell of their burning men still in her nostrils, she didn’t want to think about food.

  Not tonight.

  39

  Jael woke before anyone was stirring.

  It was dark, and the walls of her tent were still. For a moment, she wasn’t sure it was morning, though she felt anxious to get moving, wanting to ensure that everyone had made it through the night. Sitting up in her creaking bed, she saw that Aleksander had gone. He had taken second watch and was no doubt wandering around outside, trying to keep himself awake.

  It felt cold, and Jael shivered as she dragged on her boots, trying to clear Torstan’s face from her mind. Torstan’s face, Thorgils’ face. She couldn’t even imagine how bad he felt.

  But not as bad as Torstan, she imagined with a sad grin.

  Spinning around suddenly, Jael saw Fyr watching her from the end of the bed. It was becoming less shocking to see the raven now. More comforting. ‘Thanks to you,’ she mumbled, turning away to pull her swordbelt out from under the bed. ‘Thanks to you, I don’t have to feel like Thorgils today.’ And sitting up, she came face to face with a woman standing in the corner by her bed, draped in a shimmering black cloak, her long white hair almost touching the ground.

  Daala, Mother of the Tuuran Gods.

  She had come to Jael the night of the barsk attack, warned her then.

  Daala stepped towards the bed. ‘What happened yesterday...’ Her distress gave her voice a heaviness, a weight she had not felt in centuries. If ever. ‘It was a change, Jael. For all of us. We must protect ourselves now. If Draguta captures any more of the gods, she will use us against you. We are powerful, and in her hands, weapons that will cause great devastation. My gods, Vidar’s... we must hide.’

  Jael wondered if she was dreaming. She moved her right hand to Toothpick’s pommel, wanting to feel some certainty in what she was seeing. ‘I... you saved me. Us. You helped. You protected us against Draguta.’

  ‘As Fyr?’ Daala barely blinked. ‘I did what I could in the moment, and so did Edela. Her and the Book of Aurea, which, thankfully, has had enough answers up until now.’

  Jael frowned, worried for her grandmother. ‘Won’t Draguta try again? To take it?’

  Daala clasped her hands in front of her cloak. ‘Draguta no longer feels constrained. She has much that makes her powerful in her own right. Perhaps she has no need to fear the Book of Aurea any longer? Not now that she has found that evil ring and claimed an army of dreamers. Their power makes her even stronger. Strong enough to claim any man or god she chooses.’

  ‘But how do we stop her, then? How do we fight her without the gods to help us? She’s going to pick us off, one by one, isn’t she? Until there’s just me standing.’

  ‘She wants you, yes. You are the symbol of all that she despises. You and Eadmund. Because you are ours. Our weapons. She will pit you against each other until one of you kills the other. Then she will claim victory. Victory over the gods, the Furycks, and Osterland. We will all be hers.’

  Jael’s mouth hung open in surprise. ‘You see this happening?’

  ‘That is what Draguta believes will happen.’

  ‘I have no magic,’ Jael tried. ‘No way to stop her. My sword...’

  Hearing a noise, Daala spun towards the tent flap, and when she turned back, Jael could see that her face had softened. ‘There came a time when I realised that to save everyone, I had to kill my husband.’

  Jael froze.

  ‘It was something I avoided for longer than I should have,’ Daala admitted. ‘I had heard the rumours, seen some of the evidence myself, but I was not prepared to face it. I hid from my fate for a time, but eventually, I killed Raemus. I had no choice. His love for me had corrupted him. His obsession with the Darkness had destroyed him. Killing him was the only way to save everyone else.’

  ‘But Eadmund isn’t corrupt. He’s bound to Draguta, a prisoner. We can help him. I don’t have to kill him.’

  Daala held out a hand, helping Jael to her feet. ‘That may be so. For your sake, Jael, I hope it is. But I came to tell you how it feels to be faced with that very choice. Your husband or your people? Who will you save? When the time comes, who will you save?’ She watched Jael’s eyes working hard to avoid hers, worrying for a moment that Jael Furyck was not who they had always believed she would become. ‘Eadmund is lost. Perhaps you will find him again? Perhaps his sister will? Or it may be that he is Draguta’s forever. Time will tell, Jael. I will be with you until the end. I will not retreat from this fight, and nor can you. Not now.’

  Jael shivered, seeing the times Eadmund had looked straight through her; the memories of him with Evaine; the nights in Eirik’s hot pool; sitting outside Ketil’s, listening to Thorgils’ terrible jokes.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to hold onto the image of his smiling face, and when she opened them, Aleksander was there, light streaming through the tent opening.

  ‘Jael? Are you alright?’

  She stared at him, her memories slipping away.

  Just as Daala had.

  She nodded quickly. ‘I am.’

  It was dark when Briggit woke.

  Or was she still in a dream?

  She could smell jasmine strongly, and reminded of where she was she sighed, rolling over. Then her dream rushed back to her, and she shivered, eyes blinking as the first hint of light crept in through the balcony door.

  She smi
led.

  How much clearer everything suddenly appeared after the right dream.

  Dawn had only just broken when Draguta yanked a sleep-drunk Meena out of bed, and threw her out of the castle, into the winding gardens to pick some herbs for the last spell she would cast before their departure. And when Meena returned, wide awake and hungry, Draguta led her back up to the horrible little chamber at the top of the castle, where they sat on stools, waiting for Brill to arrive. She did, eventually, bringing one of Eadmund’s old tunics with her.

  ‘Excellent!’ Draguta exclaimed, rubbing her hands together. ‘This is not something I want Briggit’s help with. Nor any of my new dreamers. And especially not Evaine. Not for this. I do not wish anyone to see how I bind them.’

  She was speaking so quietly as she tore Eadmund’s tunic into little strips that Meena wasn’t sure that Draguta intended them to hear her, but she looked at her just the same, waiting to respond.

  Draguta sat up, eyes on Meena. ‘Eadmund is straying far from where he needs to be, wouldn’t you say? Fighting against his destiny? It is not good enough for him to simply be here. I require him to be on our side. Our warrior. Our hero against the gods and the pathetic woman they think can defeat us. Poor lovesick Eadmund is under her spell as much as mine, but it is time to put an end to that!’ She smiled, her eyes on the licorice root Meena was grinding in the bowl. ‘Another slice, I think, don’t you? And then you may hand me the vine.’

  Breakfast was porridge, and though there was little enthusiasm to be found, most forced it down, knowing that they had another long day ahead. There wasn’t much conversation either, but there were a lot of tired eyes straining in the sunshine, peering around, searching for the next trouble heading their way.

  ‘I’ll keep you by me today, Ayla,’ Jael said, pulling off her boot, trying to find the tiny pebble rolling around in it. ‘You and the wagon. Just in case.’